So anxious were they all to hear the news on our arrival that I had difficulty in getting any assistance in putting up my tent. Finally a young man came over and helped me for a few moments and then hurried back, evidently anxious not to miss any of the news. Of course I understood but little of what was said, but I heard over and over again the names of Bishop Bompas and Mary Christie, for they all knew the late beloved Bishop and some of them were related to the young wife whose death at Edmonton I have already mentioned. My supplies were nearly exhausted and dry bread and tea had to suffice for my supper.
The Indian always expects a feast when a white man visits him, and great was their disappointment when I failed to gratify their anticipations.
The weather cleared up during the night, and when I awoke in the morning and walked out from my tent with the sun shining in all its Arctic splendour the view was more than charming. Our camp was on a point some forty feet above the river, and, below, the calm waters glistened in the sunlight like a sea of glass. What a change from the night before; when the same waters, angered by the north wind, threatened our little canoes and caused me an hour of downright fear such as I had never before experienced. For miles and miles the river could be traced, winding through the valley land, while far beyond were the mountains with their snow capped peaks, one beyond the other as far as the eye could reach.
What a smiling morning! All nature was so tranquil, that any forebodings for the future were too pessimistic, and one could scarcely even feel lonely or isolated. To add to the picture the Indians were seen out on the river in their little canoes, at home in their favoured vocation—fishing for the salmon. Altogether it was such a scene that the contemplation of it even yet brings the keenest enjoyment.
When the canoes came ashore they were fairly well laden with the choicest of fish. Owing to the state of my larder I was particularly glad of their success. I bought a few, giving them money and a little tea in exchange and promised them that when I got to Rampart House, where I expected to get fresh supplies, I would send them a present, especially of tea and tobacco. An Indian camp is always in a starving condition if it is out of these two articles. The order of supplies are, first tea, next tobacco, then meat and lastly flour.
In every Indian village along the whole route it was disheartening to see so many of the people sick and without any means of getting medical treatment, but this encampment was perhaps the worst of any in this respect, and the appeals for medicine were most urgent. They know nothing as to what remedies should be taken for any specific ailment, but think that any kind of medicine should cure any disease in the calendar. I remember an incident at Fort Frances many years ago. A young Indian who had a sprained wrist, insisted that by taking painkiller inwardly he was greatly relieved, saying that it went down his throat and then right down to his wrist. Probably the spirits in this remedy was what he liked most, but I have known them to take other remedies that certainly were not palatable, where the effect was as remote from the ailment as in the former case.
During our trip I heard much from John Quatlot regarding his son Elias. The poor old Indian seemed very proud of his boy, as well as of his given name, which he took pains to tell me was in the Bible. John Tizzard seemed to regard this as a boast, and on one occasion made the remark that the name Jacob, by which his own son was known, was also in the Bible.
Quatlot informed me, too, that his son had other accomplishments. He was a good hunter, a good Christian, and he could talk to me in English. I was further informed that he was an expert canoe man, and of this I would have proof as he intended having him take me in his big canoe from Old Crow to Rampart House, the old man explaining that he was tired and needed a rest after his long journey.
My expectations, however, were doomed to disappointment on several points. Elias spoke sufficient English to ask me how much I intended to give him for his proposed services. I had already paid considerably more than I had promised, and the agreement was that they should take me to Rampart House, so I told him that in this case he was taking the place of his father, who needed a rest; that I was not anxious that he should come except to relieve his father; and that it rested with himself to say whether he wished to come or not. At this he seemed very much displeased, and the old man himself made ready to start. It was really painful to see how chagrined he felt at his son’s conduct; not so much for the work he was compelled to do, as for the unfavourable impression which he knew I had formed regarding his boy. He said very little for some time, but his affection for Elias was stronger than his resentment, and in his very broken English he at length tried to make excuses for him, saying he was a good boy but that he was not well enough to come.